


Got Rhythm

by oddishly



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-23
Updated: 2010-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-09 02:43:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/82177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddishly/pseuds/oddishly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Remember when I gave you a massage that time?'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Got Rhythm

Spencer bursts out laughing.

'Fuck off,' Ryan mutters, blushing furiously. Spencer snorts.

'Decided to do a bit of sunbathing, did you?' He runs his eye down Ryan's back. 'Or did you like, walk backwards into a bucket of paint?'

'Fuck _off_,' Ryan says, 'it's not that bad.' He cranes his neck, trying to look down his back, then hisses and jerks back.

Spencer smirks. Ryan's shirt is dangling from one hand, and but for a thin line of white skin peeking out stark from his waistband, every inch of his back is beetroot-pink and glowing. 'Wouldn't want to be you in the morning.'

Ryan rolls his eyes and starts towards Spencer on his bed. Spencer assumes a horrified expression and throws his hands up. 'My eyes!' he says through his fingers. 'You'll blind me!'

Ryan scowls. 'Ha ha,' he says flatly. 'It's only my back that's burnt, anyway. Are you done?'

Spencer considers. Ryan's wearing that expression he likes to use when he's talking about the girls in his English class who misinterpret Nietzsche. Spencer has an idea that being on the receiving end will get boring fast.

'Yeah,' he says quickly when Ryan's eyes start to narrow. 'Uh. Has my mom seen you yet?'

'No.' Ryan eases himself down on the bed next to Spencer. 'She's going to laugh _forever_, isn't she.'

Spencer turns sideways so that he's looking down the length of Ryan's body. 'She might laugh a bit, yeah,' he replies.

Ryan makes a sad noise in the back of his throat and shuffles closer to Spencer. He presses his arm close down the length of Spencer's and links their fingers, lifting them up to his eye.

Spencer blinks.

'I dunno,' says Ryan. 'It's not _that_ bad.' He runs his eye down their arms, tan and rosy pink together, then looks hopefully up at Spencer.

Spencer makes a face. 'Right,' Ryan sighs, letting his fingers slip out of Spencer's. Spencer pouts, then catches it and shakes his head.

'It could be worse,' he says diplomatically. 'All you need is ...' Spencer rolls off the bed and into the bathroom next door, then walks back out waving a bottle of lotion in his hands. 'This.'

Ryan's eyes light up. '_After-sun,_' he breathes. 'Spence, you're a life saver.'

Spencer shrugs. 'It doesn't get rid of the redness,' he warns. 'No losing the lobster look.'

'I don't care,' replies Ryan. 'I'm in so much pain, Spence, like you wouldn't _believe_.'

Spencer rolls his eyes and tosses the bottle at Ryan, who fumbles and drops it. He reaches down to the floor, grimacing, but overbalances and slips off the bed with a yelp. Spencer raises his eyebrows; Ryan drops his forehead onto the floorboards, groaning piteously.

After a moment, Ryan opens his eyes. 'Help me, Spence,' he begs. He picks up the bottle of lotion and waves it at Spencer. 'Please, I'll do anything.'

'Anything?'

Ryan's gaze turns feverish. 'Anything you want, Spence, _anything_, I'll -'

'All right, I was only joking,' Spencer mutters, dropping to his knees next to Ryan. 'Well - roll over, then.'

'On the floor?'

'On the bed, then!' Ryan's whining is starting to get on Spencer's nerves.

Ryan rolls to his feet, but before he can ease himself onto the bed, he turns back to Spencer, eyes bright. 'The futon,' he says, waving a hand at the corner of the room. 'That'd be better.'

Spencer makes a face. 'You sure? It's still kind of dusty.'

'It's fine. Your attic isn't that bad.' Ryan unrolls the futon and lowers himself on top of it, then turns to look at Spencer with an expectant look on his face.

'All right,' Spencer sighs. He crawls over to Ryan and reaches for the lotion, squirting a long line of it down his back. Ryan hisses.

Spencer winces. It hurts just looking at it, actually; the white of the lotion bright against Ryan's glowing skin.

'C'mon, Spence,' Ryan whines. Spencer blinks, surprised, and drags his gaze away from the stripes of cream. He flexes his fingers and positions them on Ryan's shoulder blades, then starts rubbing the cream in gingerly. Ryan shifts, sighing.

The swirl of the lotion is oddly hypnotising as Spencer smoothes it into Ryan's skin, and despite himself, Spencer's starting to enjoy the motion before Ryan's squirming gets too distracting to ignore. He draws back, annoyed, and Ryan sits up.

'You're doing it too gently,' Ryan says. 'It tickles.'

'I'm putting on after-sun, not giving you a massage,' Spencer points out.

'Yeah. But could you make it a bit less obvious?'

Spencer rolls his eyes. 'I'm sorry, your highness,' he replies. 'I'm not actually trained in the arts of seduction and massage.'

'So?' Ryan ignores the sarcasm. 'Neither am I; I still know the difference between a massage and a wash.' Ryan's voice takes on the self-satisfied tone that always makes Spencer start counting slowly to ten in his head. 'Sarah really liked my massages. She said I had the right hands for it.' Ryan fans his fingers in front of him. 'Maybe I should offer to give Tara a massage,' he muses.

Spencer snorts and Ryan snaps his gaze around. 'Don't believe me?' he asks, eyebrows raised, and Spencer shrugs.

'Fine.' Before Spencer is quite aware of what's happening, Ryan is dragging him onto the futon beside him and tugging at Spencer's shirt. Spencer makes an outraged noise and slaps his hands away, pulling his shirt down defensively. 'You - what the fuck, Ryan?'

'I'm going to give you a massage,' Ryan says impatiently and goes for Spencer's waist again. 'Take it _off._'

'I don't - I thought you wanted me to put that after-sun on you!' Spencer protests. He flaps a hand at Ryan's chest, keeping the other firmly on his shirt. 'Me! On you!'

Ryan nods briefly. 'Yeah,' he says, 'I'm showing you how.'

Spencer's mouth drops open. 'You're - ' he starts, but Ryan takes advantage of his distraction to yank harder at Spencer's shirt and gets it up around his neck. Spencer splutters, trying to windmill his arms, but eventually gives up and pulls the shirt off.

Ryan points triumphantly at the mat. 'Down.'

'I'm not a dog,' Spencer grumbles, but lies down anyway. He coughs in surprise when Ryan shifts to straddle his hips, tightening his legs until Spencer lies still. 'What are you doing?' he asks suspiciously. 'You're - '

'- giving you a massage,' Ryan finishes calmly. 'Now close your eyes and enjoy it.'

Spencer takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes as Ryan presses a hand between his shoulder blades, brushing along first one shoulder and then the other for no reason Spencer can discern. He bites down on a laugh when Ryan hums thoughtfully and takes his hands away.

'Changed your mind?' asks Spencer after a moment, wriggling his hips hopefully. He jumps when Ryan brings his hands down on his back again, this time cold and wet with the lotion.

'Patience,' Ryan chides. He smoothes his hands in circles across Spencer's skin. 'I need to ...' Ryan's voice trails off as he starts to rub harder.

Spencer shifts uncomfortably, trying not to be too obvious about it. Maybe Sarah's into different things than him, because this _really_ isn't Spencer's idea of a good time. Ryan's hands are freezing, his nails sharp, and he doesn't seem to know where he's working on - smoothing across Spencer's shoulder blades one moment and darting down to the small of his back the next, so hard it's almost rough. Spencer wonders how long he needs to lie there before Ryan gets bored.

'Okay,' Ryan murmurs. He takes his hands away and Spencer hears the lotion bottle click open. Ryan rubs his hands together briskly, the _slap, slap_ of his palms only a couple of inches from Spencer's ear, then blows hard as if to warm them. 'Okay,' he says again and positions his hands back on Spencer's shoulder blades.

Spencer blinks, surprised: Ryan's fingers aren't icy any more, they're _just_ this side of too cold. Now he's kneading them into Spencer's skin, slow and smooth and sure, and now they're _warm_, and -

Spencer clears his throat quietly, trying not to disturb Ryan as he works his way across Spencer's back. He's humming a little under his breath and Spencer relaxes. Maybe this won't be so bad after all. Especially if - ooh, if Ryan does _that_ more often, rolling his thumb hard into the muscle a couple of times then following it with the pads of his fingers. Yeah, like that.

Spencer sighs. Ryan's fingers are a little too thin; his skin too rough; his movements over-confident - _nervous_ thinks Spencer in the back of his head then _what_ \- but it's ... nice.

Yeah, Spencer thinks, this is okay. Ryan wasn't lying.

Spencer lets himself fall into the steady movements of Ryan's fingers, currently walking close down Spencer's spine. Maybe they're not too thin, Spencer thinks. He frowns, letting his thoughts drift across Ryan's hands wrapped around the arm of the guitar and tapping across cymbals, then pointing out a phrase in a poem that strikes him as clever or poignant. Smoothing through his hair, brushing it off his forehead; rubbing idly at the stubble he's trying to grow into a beard; catching Spencer's fingers to compare the colour of their skin ...

Ryan's nail scrapes sharp across Spencer's side and Spencer hisses, eyes flying open.

'Sorry,' Ryan says hastily, smoothing his thumb over the spot. Without thinking Spencer murmurs, 'S'all right. 'Sgood.'

After a surprised silence, Ryan continues what he's doing, trailing his fingers down Spencer's skin from his armpit to his waistband, but this time letting his nails bite occasionally. When did he let his nails grow, Spencer wonders; normally they're bitten to the quick and jagged. And why does this feel so good, for that matter; it's stupid - if any of his family comes in now, Spencer will never hear the end of it, but -

Ryan shuffles his weight down, enough that he's forcing Spencer's hips flush to the mat, and Spencer swallows a groan.

'That's - ' he says breathlessly and tries to feel irritated at Ryan's smug, '... good?' He lets it slide, though, focusing instead on Ryan's fingers, his slick palms and calloused fingertips, the hot, comfortable weight of Ryan on his ass ...

Spencer's breath catches in his throat, horrified.

'I - ' he chokes, and tries to throw Ryan off without pressing his hips any further into the mat. 'I need to get up!'

'What?' Ryan pins Spencer's flailing arms to the floor on either side of him and Spencer squeezes his eyes shut in frustration. 'Why?'

'Because,' pants Spencer, 'because - ' His brain isn't processing anything other than _friction_ and _warm_ and _fingers_ and most of all _Ryan, Ryan_, and Spencer falls silent.

'Right,' Ryan says, and Spencer can _hear_ him rolling his eyes. 'Just because I'm better than you thought.' Too much better, Spencer thinks despairingly. Ryan huffs and settles himself down heavier on Spencer's body, apparently to prove his point, and Spencer can't help it; he groans low in his throat.

Ryan doesn't notice. 'Where was I?' He traces light fingers down Spencer's spine and Spencer swallows.

Ryan hums when he finds the spot he's been looking for. Spencer feels him lean down close until he's almost lying along Spencer's back and breathe, 'Just relax' into his ear before rocking upright again. Spencer would love to relax, he really would, but - not like this.

He shuts his eyes and tries to fall back into the movements of Ryan's hands _without_ picturing their smooth slide across his back to his waist - and now he's seeing Ryan's fingers dipping under the waistband, rubbing in slow, slow circles over his hips and down, around ... Spencer purrs, pushing himself into Ryan's long, slim fingers.

Ryan's long -

Spencer's eyes fly open. Ryan's fingers aren't actually at Spencer's hips or anywhere near – they're smoothing across his shoulders and he's chatting about Tara again, apparently not needing any answers.

Spencer's eyelids start to droop and he bites down hard on his lip to jolt himself alert. Not again, he thinks grimly. Not now.

In the corner, Ryan's phone rings. Ryan stops talking abruptly. _'Tara_,' he says and jumps off Spencer. Spencer tries not to sigh in relief as Ryan snatches up his phone, counts to three, then says, 'Hey,' the timbre of his voice a little deeper than normal. Spencer twists his head on the mat to look at Ryan and sees him mouth, 'It's her!' at him, jabbing at the phone as if she might instead have materialised in the room. Spencer waves a hand in acknowledgement before dropping his face into the cushion.

He listens as Ryan walks across the floor and out of the room. He groans into the pillow. _What_. His palms are sweating, his mouth is dry as ash, and he's half-hard but he can't even think of doing anything about it until Ryan leaves. Maybe not even then, Spencer thinks dismally; maybe only when he's booked himself a flight to England and will _never have to face Ryan again_. Maybe then he'll think of - doing something about it.

Ryan bangs the door open and trips over his feet into the room. 'Spence,' he blurts, 'Spence, she wants to meet me now. Uh. I think she wants to meet me now. I mean. I'm going to meet her now, all right?'

'Are you asking for my permission?' Spencer says, as dry as he can manage. 'Back by ten, dear; it's a school night.'

Ryan's expression slips from excited through fond until it hits amused. 'Fucker,' he says, rolling his eyes, and waves at Spencer. 'Later.' The door slams shut behind him.

Spencer drops his head back into the cushion. What the fuck, what the _fuck_ \- that was Ryan, he was getting hard over _Ryan_. Ryan his best friend, the one that Spencer isn't the _least bit attracted to_, except that apparently he is.

He slips his hand under his waistband, sighing, then jerks it out again as the door snicks open. Ryan sticks his head back into the room.

'Um?' Spencer tries. He can feel his cheeks changing colour at a rate of knots and curses silently.

Ryan runs his eye down Spencer's body then back up again. 'Told you you'd like it,' he says in a smug voice.

Spencer grits his teeth. How _anyone_ could find that attractive -

Spencer shakes his head. 'I'll see you later, hot stuff,' he says, and grins ruefully as Ryan's laughter continues all the way down the stairs.


End file.
